


Touch

by TheMadam



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Kisses, Kissing, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Touch starved Alastor, touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadam/pseuds/TheMadam
Summary: Alastor is cold, but Moira is warm.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Character(s), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Wazzaaaapppp! You tired of my self indulgence yet? Sick of Moira? I could've made this a self insert, but Moira calling Alastor "Old Man" is _her_ thing sooo.... I have no explanation, I just wanted to write a frantic, touch seeking Alastor.
> 
> Also I'm learning I'm bad at writing drabbles. They always end up terribly long imo.

The soft patter of rain and gentle breeze from the cracked porch door provides the perfect ambience for Moira as she draws. Sitting at her desk, illuminated by the lamp light, she works on a piece for Alastor. He is quite fond of her art, so when the mood strikes she takes her time with her gifts for him. In her focused state, she almost misses the soft knock on her door. It breaks her concentration, forcing her to place the utensils off to the side.

“Just a second.” She calls over her shoulder as she grabs her robe to cover her short, satin chemise.

Once it’s tied she makes her way to the door and pops it open a fraction. Alastor stands before her, dressed in his button down and slacks, having foregone his jacket at such an hour. She notes his little house shoes and has to suppress a giggle.

Leaning against the doorframe, she pushes it open a little further.

“Good evening.” She greets with a small yawn, feeling exhausted now that she’s finally moved from her perch. He responds equally as tired.

“Good evening.”

Looking around the doorframe to the clock on her nightstand, she blinks.

“It’s a quarter till two a.m. Shouldn’t you be in bed, Old Man?” She asks, wiggling her fingers at him teasingly. Alastor chuckles quietly, the sound broken up by sleepy static.

“Perhaps, but I hardly ever rest as it is.” Comes his tired reply. 

Taking in his appearance, it looks like he could use it. Soft circles grace the underside of his eyes and his posture is a bit more relaxed than she’s used to seeing. But she makes no comment on it.

“Well,” she says softly, pushing the door open fully and gesturing into her room. “We can be night owls together if you like? Although, isn’t it a bit inappropriate to come to a lady's chambers so late?” The two of them are aware she doesn’t seriously mean the latter statement.

Shuffling forward, Alastor takes her invitation to enter her room. He looks around curiously. It isn’t his first time within the room, but she’s done a lot of rearranging since then. It is also home to more personal things now that she’s fully settled. His gaze regards her altar politely, at some point he wishes to discuss her devotion but now is not the time. He is tired. Having spent the majority of the evening battling with personal quarrels, he does not have the mental capacity to have a lengthy conversation of the sort. For once, he feels like shutting up.

Moira watches him from the doorway for a moment before closing said door. Walking over to her desk, she rearranges some of the papers so he can’t peak at what she’s working on. No one likes a spoiled gift, even if he might say otherwise. 

“It’s a bit cold tonight.” Alastor speaks up, breaking the comfortable silence while he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Clicking off her lamp, the fairy lights above her headboard provide enough illumination to guide her in front of him. Stopping between his legs, she rests her wrists loosely on his shoulders. He grabs her waist gently and the two lock in a stare.

“Indeed it is. Is that why you came to visit little ol’ me so late at night?” She whispers into his ear as she leans over to kiss his temple. 

“Perhaps.” Is all he says in response, his thumbs rubbing soft circles over her waist. She hums thoughtfully, trying to figure out what’s going on. His expression has been unreadable save for the clear exhaustion.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable against the headboard?” 

Alastor doesn’t seem to regard her suggestion. Instead his hand slides over to the tie around her waist. Moira makes no move to stop him when he pulls at one end of the string. Tugging the knot open the rest of the way, she allows the smooth garment to slide off her frame to the floor. Gripping her thighs, he leans forward to press his cheek to her stomach. Listening to the soft sounds of the inner workings of her body is soothing to him. She holds his head to her while one hand runs through his hair. 

The pair spend a moment in silence, Moira just holding him while the sound of the rain smacking against the windows fills the room. Petting his hair, she hums softly. It’s a tune Alastor doesn’t recognize at all, but her voice placates him. If he could stay there forever, he would, but he knows it’s unrealistic. Pulling away, he slips his shoes off and climbs into the bed properly. 

Moira makes her way around the room to close the sliding glass to the porch the rest of the way and draws the curtains shut. Crawling into bed, she throws a leg over Alastor’s hips in a straddle. Leaning down she places a kiss to his forehead. A hand grabs her thigh to roll her over so she’s next to him. Using the leverage there, he yanks her flush against him and kisses her passionately.

The movement is so sudden it takes her by surprise. Kissing him back just as feverishly, she brings her hands to bury them in his hair. Laying there, sharing excited kisses, Alastor allows his hands to wander her figure. They slip over her curves, trace her arms, squeeze her thighs. It feels like he’s trying to bring her closer to him, but that’s not possible at this point.

His hands move over her body more frantically. Claws scrape against her back and his teeth nip at her bottom lip. A particularly rough grab of her bottom forces a gasp from her throat. He uses the opportunity to slip his tongue between her lips to taste her. Running his tongue over her sharp teeth, meeting her own in a fiery exploration. He chases after her when she goes to break the kiss, his hand shooting up to hold her face in place and stealing a few more.

Finally he allows her to have some fresh air. She turns her face away for the moment to cool off. It had been so cold a moment before and now she finds herself terribly hot. Taking a breather, she absentmindedly pets his hair while she processes his behavior.

“Are you alright?” She manages between pants, her body finally beginning to calm down.

“That’s a bit of a loaded question, don’t you think?” He murmurs against her jaw while peppering it with kisses. She hums sleepily.

“I won’t push it.”

“Thank you.”

Turning her face back toward him, she catches the last bit of how his eyes glow before they flutter closed. He doesn’t feel as relaxed as she would like. Still stiff and on guard despite her stroking his cheek.

“It’s ok.” Whispering softly, she pets his face and hair. His hands have found home at the small of her back, tracing no particular pattern against the smooth satin that covers it. Purring sweet nothings to him, she tries her best to coax him into letting go. She can’t gauge what is going on. For someone who absolutely hates touch, he seems terrified of the idea she might leave his grasp. Resting her forehead against his, she sighs. He has stumped her.

“How can someone so heavenly end up in a place like this?” He mutters quietly. “Let alone allow a monster such as myself to be so close to you?” His warm breath fans across her face as he speaks. She rubs her nose against his for a second, causing him to chuckle.

“I’m a good person who did bad things, no matter how justified in my eyes. I got my just desserts. My placement is not a fluke.”

“I’d like to hear about these bad things some day.”

“Maybe in a little while I’ll be comfortable sharing my sins with you.” Snuggling up to him further, she kisses his cheek. “Until then, I quite like sharing a bed with a big bad monster. It means the ones in my closet won’t get to me, no?”

The two of them laugh quietly. Alastor’s body finally relaxes and she scoots down to press her face to his chest. Scooping her up and being mindful of her horns, he rests his head on the pillows above her. Moira focuses on his heartbeat and his soft static hum. She continues to run her hands over his body, pausing here and there to give little scratches and pats.

“I’m glad I don’t have to be alone tonight. It’s cold.”

Wrapping the blanket around them, she squeezes his hip with her thigh.

“I’ll keep you warm.” She replies softly. He lets out a sleepy grunt to acknowledge her words. Tilting her head up, she catches him peering down at her. Walking two fingers up his arm, she allows her palm to settle on his cheek. The two of them meet in the middle to share tired kisses.

Alastor resumes the running of his hands over her body. Occasionally pausing here and there to trace little patterns on her skin. Noticing that his hands keep returning to the exposed skin of her shoulders, back, and thighs, Moira feels like she may have figured out a little bit what he’s seeking. Even if maybe he doesn’t quite understand it himself.

“Do you trust me?” She asks between kisses.

“Far more than I’d like to admit.” He whispers.

Pushing his shoulder gently, she convinces him to lay on his back. Swiftly she undoes the buttons of his shirt to expose his chest. The cool air sends a shiver up his spine. Her fingertips run gently over the scars that litter his skin for a moment, committing a few of the larger, jagged ones to memory. Drawing his attention away from her next movement, she kisses him sweetly while sliding down the straps of her nightgown. The fabric tumbles smoothly down her form. Shoving her hands under the pillow on either side of his head, she presses her skin to his. It’s warm and soft as she readjusts to lay her head on his chest.

“Comfy?” Giggling quietly, she rubs her cheek against him.

“Warm.” He replies shortly, but she takes no offense.

His hands rub her back carefully, the pads of his fingers teasing the freed skin. She begins to hum again that same tune he cannot place. Perhaps it’s not of his time or maybe it’s just something she’s coming up with on the fly. Either way, between her warm flesh against his and the sound of her voice in his now relaxed ears, he finds himself slowly falling asleep. His soft snores between static brings a sleepy triumphant smile to her lips. 

Focusing on his heartbeat, she allows the soft, rhythmic thrum to lull her to sleep.


End file.
